


I Know Who I'm Dancing For

by Ragekitten



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Protective Yuri Plisetsky, fluff later, kinda (not for long), yuri is a terrible wingman, yuri plisetsky as unwilling victurri shipper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragekitten/pseuds/Ragekitten
Summary: It was Yuri's sixteen birthday. He'd asked for leopard-print skates. Instead he got the gift of time-travel. His grandfather told him to be careful, to wait and think carefully about what to do with it, but Yuri knew exactly what he was going to use it for.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate timeline where Yuuri's video of Stammi Vicino never got posted. Victor never went to Japan to coach him. Things went badly wrong all round - until a certain Russian Ice Tiger discovers he has a remarkable gift.
> 
> Triggers for character death and mentions of suicide but not for long, cause time-travel y'all. 
> 
> This AU has been floating round my head for a bit. It's only a short first chapter but let me know if there's any interest.

"Time travel? You're shit - er kidding me, right?"

Yuri managed to catch himself before the word slipped but his grandfather's eyes still narrowed in disapproval. Normally he didn't give a fuck about his language, but the old man was one of the few people in this world he cared about and he didn't like to upset him.

"I know it seems crazy, but it is something that has been passed down through the Plisetsky line for centuries. No one is entirely sure where this power originally came from, but it comes into effect on your sixteen birthday - so today!"

Yuri blinked and reached out for the chair behind him. He'd asked for leopard-print skates. That was a normal birthday gift, right? Not some weird sc-fi shit. If his grandfather had any kind of sense of humour he would be expecting Mila and Georgi to come jumping out from somewhere with stupid grin and shouts of 'gotcha'. Instead the awkward silence just stretched out.

His grandfather eventually cleared his throat. "So, I guess you have questions?"

Yuri nodded slowly. Sure, let's go with the weirdness.

"There are rules, of course. Everything has rules. Firstly, you can't tell anyone about this. It has always been a closely guarded secret and it needs to stay that way - for your own protection as much as anything else. Secondly, no changes to huge events in history, you can't go back and stop World War 2 or anything like that."

"Why not?" Yuri butted in. That sounded like it was a win-win situation, right?

Thick brows glared at him. "Things like that are too big, we have no idea what the repercussions could be. You could end up changing the future into something even worse."

"Urgh, whatever!" Yuri rolled his eyes. "What else?"

"You only get to travel back in time once."

"What? Only once? Why?"

The old man shrugged. "That's how it has always been. So, make sure you choose wisely. Some of our family have waited until they were well into their 70s before they chose to travel back."

Well, that sounded dull. Yuri scowled. So, he apparently had something awesome and he could only do it once. That kinda sucked.  
"Wait. If you can't change big world events, does that mean you can change smaller things - stop them happening?"

His grandfather nodded. "You can, but be careful. It's impossible to tell whether a smal change can make a huge difference to the world."

He leaned forward and ruffled the teenager's blond hair. "Besides, you have your whole life to decide when and where you want to go back to. It's not like you're going to go back this week." His low, gravelly chuckle broke out and he straightened up. "Now, in better news, I've made you piroshkis for your birthday dinner."

Yuri managed a weak smile and sat down at the table. For once though, he barely tasted the delicious meal. He had the bad feeling he was going to something really stupid and waste his one chance at this awesome power on some stupid old man who didn't deserve it. But the more he thought about it the more the idea solidified in his mind. He was going to do it. He was going to go back one year and stop Victor Nikiforov from killing himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite what pretty much everyone around him seemed to think, Yuri Plisetsky did actually think some things through before he jumped into them. Okay, so he might have some minor impulse control and very occasional anger issues - but he blamed that more on being surrounded by complete idiots then any personal fault. Still, you didn't get to be internationally ranked athlete at 16 without using your head once in a while - so while he was tempted just to rock up at Victor's on the exact date and kick the old man with his knife shoes, he was smart enough to know that Victor was an idiot who never listened to anyone, least of all Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos on the first chapter! Sorry we're starting a bit slow - but things will pick up and definitely some Yuuri coming up soon :) Also, I have no beta for this, so apologies in advance for any mistakes.

Despite what pretty much everyone around him seemed to think, Yuri Plisetsky did actually think some things through before he jumped into them. Okay, so he might have some minor impulse control and very occasional anger issues - but he blamed that more on being surrounded by complete idiots then any personal fault. Still, you didn't get to be internationally ranked athlete at 16 without using your head once in a while - so while he was tempted just to rock up at Victor's on the exact date and kick the old man with his knife shoes, he was smart enough to know that Victor was an idiot who never listened to anyone, least of all Yuri. Just telling the older skater not to do something stupid wasn't going to be enough.

Unfortunately, Yuri was not good with people. He could skate better than most people in the world, but when it came to actually getting along with other human beings, let along managing to be sympathetic, helpful, understanding, or whatever the fuck else you were supposed to be he was pretty lost. Yuri struggled with reading people at the best of time, let alone someone like Victor who had appeared to be on top of the world but had apparently been fooling everyone for who knows how long. Luckily, while he was aware of his limitations, he also knew he had more sensible, logical friends.

Hence then Skype call.

Otabek answered within two rings. He was obviously sprawled across his bed, and his dark hair was mussed up at the back. Yuri was totally not staring at it. "Hey, Yura. Happy birthday!"

A rare smile touched Yuri's lips. "Thanks, Beka. How's the training going?"

"Good." Otabek didn't get worked up like Yuri did (or like most of his ridiculously extra Russian rink mates) but Yuri was getting more familiar with the faint twitch of his lips and the warmth in his brown eyes that spoke of Otabek having a good session at the rink.

"Damn right," he told the other boy. "Someone's gotta give me some decent competition this season."

Otabek did smile then, and it was as glorious as it was rare. "Er, Yura, you do remember that I beat you last time we competed?"

The Russian huffed. He really wanted to call it luck, but Beka had worked too hard for him to demean his friend's accomplishments like that. "Don't get used to it," he muttered instead, before trailing off into silence. He had no idea how to bring up this subject.

"Something wrong?"

Yuri managed a reluctant smile. One of the things he liked about Otabek was that he might not be constantly chatty but he noticed things. Of course, that didn't mean it made any easier to discuss something this weird. Otabek was cool. He wore leather jackets and rode a motorcycle and DJ-ed when he wasn't skating internationally – and yet somehow he seemed to like Yuri. So Yuri was quite keen not to come off as a weirdo nutcase.

He took a deep breath. "So, if I said that hypothetically, someone was thinking about... hurting themselves. How would you stop them doing it?"

Otabek's dark eyes crinkled with concern. "Are you okay, Yura?"

"Of course, idiot! It's not me! I mean, it's not anyone, that's why it's hypothetical."

The Kazakh skater stared at him a long moment before he spoke slowly. "I guess it would depend on why they were wanting to hurt themselves."

Yuri closed his eyes briefly, fighting back the pain that still hit every time. The uselessness. How could none of them have noticed? He thought back to Victor's stupidly vague note. "I guess... maybe they think they have nothing to live for?"

Beka's voice was quiet when he finally answered. "You know there's no easy answers for something like this, Yura. You can't make someone well, you can't make them get help if they don't want to. But I guess maybe... if they don't think they have anything worth living for then you could try to show them that wasn't the case. That there was something that could make them happy, something to hang on for?"

Yuri nodded slowly. It wasn't perfect but it was a starting point. "Thanks, Beka." He whispered to the other boy.

They chatted about random things for a while; changes to Yuri's conditioning routine, some new tracks Otabek had been working on, before Yuri bid his friend goodbye and flung himself back on the bed.

Something that would make Victor happy. He thought back to that horrible day. The confusion, the panic, Yakov's white face, Makkachin's dismal whining. The subdued air that still hadn't left the rink. The guilt they all felt, because they saw Victor every day and surely one of them should have seen that something was wrong. But then, as long as Yuri had known the older man he had seemed so distant, self-composed. A bright, burning beacon to try and catch up to but never a real person with hopes and dreams and apparently the feeling that six World Championship golds and two Olympic medals weren't enough to live for.

An abrupt memory came back to him. The banquet after the Sochi Grand Prix. He'd won Junior gold, Victor had won Seniors (of course!) and the last place had been taken by Katsuki Yuuri. The Japanese man had got roaring drunk, managed by pure blind luck to somehow beat Yuri in a dance-off, performed a truly disgusting display with Chris Giacometti and then made googly eyes at Victor all night before grinding on the older man and begging him to coach him. Gross! Yuri had been a minor back then for fuck's sake, he shouldn't have had to see that.

But Victor had actually looked... happy? And God, they'd all had to listen to the whining and moping for weeks afterwards - _why hasn't he called me? why doesn't he like me? do you think he'd want to adopt sixteen poodles and live in a Swiss chalet?_ Something to live for, huh?

Yuri remembered Katsuki had crashed and burned after his disastrous performance at that Grand Prix. He'd bombed his Nationals, not qualified for Worlds and then retired so quietly that if Yuri hadn't had a Google alert on his phone for the Japanese man's name he would never have even been aware of it happening. (So what if he might have followed the man's skating? There was nothing wrong with appreciating his step sequences, even if it was a loser who couldn't land any jumps!)

Obviously the answer was right in front of him. He needed to stop Katsuki retiring so he'd meet Victor again and they could be ridiculous and gross together - preferably far away from Yuri but still, you know, not fucking up their respective lives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Yuuri finally meet (well, you know, without one of them screaming at the other in the bathroom - though it's still Yuri so screaming will probably still be involved).  
> ION - I suck at summaries! :)

Yuri looked around curiously. He was obviously in a city, mildly ugly concrete buildings surrounding him on all sides. It was night - which was weird because it had been mid-afternoon when he'd... left? jumped? whatever the hell you'd call it. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and he could see his breath in white puffs in front of him, but hey, it wasn't the frigid cold of Russia. America, his mind supplied him with. Katsuki had trained in America with the loud-mouthed, hippy, Italian.

  
The largest concrete building loomed ahead of him, 'Detroit Skate Club' he could barely make out in the dim street lights. There didn't seem to be any lights on inside but Yuri had to believe there was a reason he'd appeared here rather than inside an apartment, where surely normal people would be at this time. He began to walk round the building. Back door, there was always a back door.

  
Hah! And some idiot was even dumb enough to leave it open. He quietly slipped inside, making his way through dull white corridors until he finally managed to push open double doors and the crisp air and scent of ice hit him. A small smile touched his lips. Ice rinks had a universal feel across the world, and since he was five years old they had always equalled home for him. There were low lights on - not the main floodlights but enough to light up the rink itself and the swish of skates on a smooth surface echoed off the walls.

  
Yuri crept silently down the bleachers, eyes on the lone figure on the ice. He was smoothly gliding round - doing compulsory figures? Jeez, did anyone under 100 do those anymore? He had to stifle a snort. Yakov would fucking love this guy - the old man had ranted for weeks when they were taken out of competitions.

  
He had to grudgingly admit that Katsuki's edges were pretty close to perfect, but his whole demenaour screamed depression, head low, shoulders slumped. Yuri was just about to shout out, to tell him to fucking cheer up or something, when Katsuki suddenly stopped, head going up, shoulders squaring with something like determination and took a position in the centre of the ice.

  
Yuri's jaw dropped. He knew that position. But, no, surely not? Before his brain quite caught up he was scrabbling for his phone, clicking record as he pointed it at the rink. There was no music, but Katsuki didn't need it. Every sweep of the arms, every step sequence; Yuri had seen that routine way more times than he ever wanted to and he could tell every step was perfectly in time.

  
Then Katsuki glided into a jump set-up, weight firmly on his inside skate, and time seemed to stand still. One, two, three, four, rotations, and barely a wobble when he landed. How? How the fuck could Yuuri Katsuki do an almost perfect quad flip and yet come last in the Grand Prix final? Yuri watched the rest in shock, vaguely noting that Katsuki's performance scores would have been through the roof. Victor had skated this with a desperation, almost a cynicism - skating to love but never really believing it would happen. Katsuki gave it a vulnerability, a note of hope that changed the whole story. Victor had broke records with this routine, but watching now... he wasn't sure if Katsuki actually did it better.

  
Yuri shook his head, breaking the spell just as Katsuki struck the final pose - barely seeming out of breath. He held it for a long moment, before his head slumped again and he moved back into one of his figures. _What the fuck?_

  
Katsuki's head shot up, eyes wide and panicked - and, yeah, he may have said that out loud.

  
"Who's there?" He called, voice wavery. "There's no access at this time."

  
Like he didn't know that. Yuri had been trying to decide what he felt about that routine since it started, and now he was decided - he was fucking mad. His sneakers stomped down the stairs to the rinkside.

  
"What the hell was that? Why were you not on the podium with Victor? Fuck, why were you not above him?"

  
Katsuki blinked, big brown eyes squinting at him. "Yuri Plisetsky?" He scrambled for something on the rink barrier, before placing ugly blue-rimmed glasses on his nose. His brow scrunched. "But, you can't be, you're taller and your hair is longer."

  
Ah, okay, Yuri possibly hadn't thought this through. "Erm, I'm his older brother."  
Name, think of a name, anything!  
"Nikolai."  
Fuck, that was really the best he could think of?  
"Yeah, and don't check with him, cause we don't talk."

  
Katsuki was still staring at him, head tilted to one side like a confused puppy.  
"Okay... so what are you doing here? I mean, shouldn't you be in Russia, or well... not here?" He trailed off stuttering.

  
A plan was forming in Yuri's head, a seriously great plan if he said so himself.  
"Obviously your coach is useless if you can skate like that and haven't won anything, so I'm gonna help you get to Worlds, you're gonna win gold and beat Victor's ass."

  
Katsuki gave a high-pitched shriek like a little piggy and promptly fell on his ass.

  
"That should get the old man's fucking attention." Yuri muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos - you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Apologies for taking sooooo long to update. I've had some quite bad health problems this year, and this is one of my attempts to get back into writing, so updates may be a little sporadic :( The next few chapters at least should be up soon though.


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